And the Award Goes To
by madsthenerdygirl
Summary: Beckett hates award shows. Well, until Castle changed her mind, anyway.


**Title: And the Award Goes To…**

**Rating: If this were the Oscars, they'd cut to commercial.**

**Summary: Beckett hates award shows. Well, until Castle changed her mind, anyway.**

**Disclaimer: You're on the site "fanfiction". You **_**really**_** think I own anything?**

**Dedication: Any actor with an ounce of graciousness has a long list of people to thank when they accept their award, and one group of people that don't get thanked enough, in my opinion, are the rabidly loyal fans that watch their stuff. So this story is dedicated to you, my dear readers, for showering me with more story/author alerts and reviews than I could possibly hope for. You're the cream in my coffee!**

**Author's Note: Don't get me wrong, I adore awards shows; I'm actually a struggling actress myself. BUT that doesn't stop me – I'll make Caskett do the sexy salsa whenever and wherever I can think up! And this is my first time doing, ahem, doggy-style so be gentle with me! (That's what she said.)**

"And here stepping out is actress Natalie Rhodes… although the actress' methods are a little controversial, there's no denying that she gets into a character like no one else. The actress is currently up for her role in the film Heat Wave, based on the bestselling novel – and speaking of novels, here comes Richard Castle, the author of the wildly popular Nikki Heat series!"

The reporters continued to narrate everything, jumping from star to star expertly as they tried to gain the interviews and the camera shots that would land them the network audience (and, hopefully, the bonus) they needed. Beckett bit back a snort at the comment 'gets into a character like no one else'. Yeah, thank God no one else got into character like Natalie or all the rehab centers would be overflowing.

Not that Beckett didn't have a certain fondness for the actress; Natalie was nice, in her own way, and was certainly driven and perceptive. They'd met up with her and the other actors beforehand (reuniting with the men who played Ochoa and Riley, Esposito and Ryan's counterparts, was fun considering the last time they'd seen them was when they'd teamed up to get a confession from a suspect) and Natalie had known the minute she'd seen Beckett and Castle that they were together.

She'd pulled Beckett aside, her blue eyes gleaming in that special way of hers. "Oh my God!" She whispered. "You two did it, didn't you!"

Knowing that lying was futile and avoidance would only prolong the torture, Beckett nodded. Natalie squeezed her arm and squealed. "Oh, you two are so cute! I feel better about not sleeping with him."

Beckett bit the inside of her cheek. Yeah, that didn't annoy her… much.

What had really amused Beckett was when she'd met the dashing man playing Jameson Rook, one mister Sterling Hudson. Masculine, well put-together, and unfailingly charming, the actor had left Castle seething with jealousy as he and Beckett chatted away. That is, until his boyfriend Chris Lane arrived. Oh, the look on Castle's face… Beckett regretted not putting her camera in her tiny clutch purse.

The red carpet walk, however, she could do without. She tried to walk as quickly as she could while still maintaining her dignity and some measure of poise. Castle didn't really help; he was soaking it all up, giving the crowds his most dashing grin and letting them have the full devastating effect of his blue eyes. Beckett really, really wanted them to just move on but there's only so far you can go before you've abandoned your red carpet date, and while Beckett was almost to the point of where leaving Castle to the wolves didn't seem like such a bad idea, she was worried that rushing off might lead to gossip.

If there was one thing Beckett hated as much as murderers, it was gossip.

So she stuck by her man, their arms linked, letting their hips touch and putting her hand on his chest for the benefit of the crowds. They looked like the perfect Hollywood couple. Beckett had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the thought. Instead, she focused on Natalie, her Nikki-Heat inspired couture dress hugging her body, the red orange-and-gold sequins sparkling in the light of the cameras, the brilliant flame red ruffles on her right shoulder and at her ankles just under the border of over-the-top. The sparkles swirled up the body of the dress, mixing with the ruffles like a column of flame. The actresses' entire chest above her breasts (and a good part of her cleavage) was showing. Natalie Rhodes, the embodiment of sex appeal. She really did look stunning…

Another camera flash momentarily blinded Beckett. Could they just, for two seconds, shut the damn things off?

She knew it was selfish, but she almost wished that _Heat Wave_ hadn't been such a big hit. Everyone was praising the acting, the witty dialogue, the action scenes, the cinematography… the critics were raving, the fans were squealing (well, that was nothing new), and everyone was saying that _this _was how you adapted a book for film. Yes, we're looking at you, _Eragon_ writers.

Castle could sense Beckett's impatience. She hid it well – the sultry smiles and half-lidded bedroom eyes she were sending the cameras were almost enough to convince you that she'd been doing this all her life. But from the way her jaw was a little too firm to the way the hand on his arm clutched just a little too tightly, he knew she was dying slowly out here. Castle thrived on publicity, but Beckett was different. She was like a wild animal, an ocelot, maybe; solitary, beautiful beyond words, primal and sexy… and definitely wild. If you were lucky, she would let you near, let you into her jungle world but you couldn't ever catch her, not really. Castle was lucky enough to be the one she chose to let in – a caretaker in a way, but one that she let care for her on her own terms, not his. And now, whether she knew it or not, he had to care for her and get her away from the blinding flashing giddy _fakeness_ of it all and back into her natural environment.

Holding up a hand to stall the questions (there was no real stopping them, just stalling them for a minute) he guided them through the crowd and down the carpet to the entrance of the theater. Beckett didn't even glance at the plethora of film and television stars that surrounded them; she just kept her head tilted away from the cameras, her arms wrapped around his like he was a life preserver in the middle of a stormy sea.

He led them away from the cameras, behind the posing stars, so that they had a kind of human shield between them and the jostling, yelling crowd. They caught snippets of interviews as they hurried by. One woman, her sun-kissed brown hair swept up in a light bun, was discussing her new baby with a reporter who was clearly wet behind the ears – his microphone was shaking so badly Castle feared he might drop it.

Beckett let it all wash over her, just white noise in the background. She bumped into a young man in a velvet suit that looked a size too big, his distinctive hair slicked back. Beckett mumbled an apology and kept walking, pressing herself into Castle's side. She needed to get out of this. She needed to get away from the cameras, from the heat and the blinding light and the rush of it all. It was like she'd taken a drug overdose and it was all rushing through her veins, amplifying everything and making it all so stark and contrasting that it was painful.

It took them longer than she would have liked, but they finally got inside. There was an abundance of cameras here as well, but they were more respectful. It was as if they knew they were on the stars' turf now, and had to tread lightly. There were a few reporters conducting interviews on the plush sofas scattered about, and several bars were in operation.

Beckett relaxed, sensing they were out of the danger zone, and raised her head. She immediately elbowed Castle in the ribs. "Is that…?" She hissed, jerking her head towards a movie star clad in a shimmering gold dress.

He grinned. "Yes, it is." He said.

Beckett's eyes went round, going from those of a leopard to doe eyes in two seconds flat. God, he loved her eyes. She didn't say anything, didn't approach the actress, but simply turned away. She'd had her look, gotten her confirmation, and she didn't need anything more.

They wandered leisurely through the area, Castle pointing out various people he'd rubbed elbows with over the years. He knew quite a large number of people in the industry.

"How do you know so many of these people?" Beckett asked, surprised.

Castle grimaced. "Meredith. Half of these people she either had me schmooze to on her behalf or she knew from back when they were all starving artists. She'd have members of her acting class over for drinks afterwards, that sort of thing. A few of them I've met at parties in New York or press releases, but I owe at least half of the people I know here to her."

He nodded towards a thin, stocky man with shockingly white hair and overly large black glasses. "He wanted to adapt one of my Derik Storm books a couple years back, but then he got his hands on _The Departed_ and the deal fell through. I hear his wife loves the Nikki Heat series, though." He winked at Beckett.

A short, traditionally built African American woman with a face too tiny for her body and large, expressive eyes hurried past them to talk with the tall, girl-next-door brunette in the slinky dress. Castle grinned. "She's a huge fan of my books – I signed her entire collection of my work when I did a signing in L.A. a few years back. That was before she hit the big time."

"Really?" Beckett grinned.

There was a slight crackling sound, and then an announcement was sent over the speakers that it was time for everyone to take their seats. Castle gently took Beckett's elbow and guided her through the room and the swiftly-moving crowd, escorting her to their table. They were seated in the middle of the room, near the aisle, at the same table as the director, the main cast, and the two writers that had adapted the novel into the film (collaborating heavily with Castle, of course).

Castle was seated with Sterling Hudson on his left, with Beckett on his right; Natalie Rhodes was on Beckett's right. Natalie had gone stag, and Beckett had felt a twinge of sympathy until the star had commenced to chat up every single guy within shouting distance. Seriously, did that woman's sex drive ever slow down? Or did her mouth just lack a filter?

Then the lights dimmed and the show started. Beckett clapped appreciatively along with everyone else, and then settled back against her chair to watch.

At first, it was fun; Natalie took occasional breaks from her flirting to whisper highly amusing stories about various actors in Beckett's ear, and Castle's inner monologue kept him amused for a good while. But then Beckett started to get bored. She didn't want to sit there and watch; she wanted to go and do something. A long list of all the other things – useful things – she could be doing flashed through her mind, and she squirmed in her seat.

Then she got an idea; an awful idea. Beckett got a wonderful, awful idea.

It was a wonderful, awful, deliciously _sinful_ idea.

She flicked her eyes towards Castle. He was watching the goings-on up onstage, but the light in his eyes had dulled a little. He was getting bored, too.

_Perfect._

Beckett took her hand from its resting place in her lap and slid it across to Castle's thigh. She just rested it there for a moment, waiting until she saw the realization in his face, and then squeezed it gently.

Castle didn't dare look at her. Beckett's hand was on his thigh, and he knew from experience that any acknowledgement would only encourage her. Unfortunately, no acknowledgment encouraged her, too.

Beckett let her hand move a little higher up, putting it dangerously close to the more sensitive parts of Castle's anatomy before switching gears, slipping her hand under his jacket and playing with the waistband of his pants at his back before slipping her hand under his shirt, brushing her hand against his bare skin.

Castle sucked in a breath. It was barely audible, but Beckett noticed. She grinned saucily. She _so_ had him. After continuing to fiddle with his shirt for a minute, even going so far as to slip her hand under his jacket and up his back, Beckett brought her hand around to his front again, brushing against his package.

That was it. Castle looked over at the ushers and cameramen, waiting for the signal that they were cutting to commercial. It was the only time the guests were allowed to leave their seats, so that they wouldn't disrupt the show or the broadcast. The minute he saw them cut to commercial, he was up and moving, grabbing Beckett's hand and pulling her up and down the aisle.

Natalie's knowing smirk was the only sign that anyone noticed they were leaving.

The reception area outside of the theater, filled to bursting with patrons only an hour ago, was now deserted. Staff were cleaning up and there were a few reporters talking with cameramen, but that was it. Oh, well, there was a rather famous couple chatting with their kids on speakerphone. The woman's thin, angular face, usually so harsh and calculated, was softened by the genuine joy expressed, while her husband was no longer a Hollywood hunk but the dad-next-door, grinning as he listened to the sound of various children talking about their "night with Grandma".

Rick gave them a polite smile, which they returned, as he led Kate over towards the bathrooms. The bathrooms were truly something to behold. There was the Men's Room and the Women's Room, each gleaming and decadent, but there was also a large waiting room connecting to two, most likely to accommodate the long lines that formed during intermissions. One wall was lined with a long, plush burgundy sofa. Rick grinned.

_Perfect._

"You do realize how cliché this is, right?" Kate asked, her eyes gleaming nonetheless.

"Cliché would be doing it in the men's room, Kate." He growled.

Slipping out of his grasp, Kate turned and pressed her back against one of the walls, which was covered entirely in a mirror that had designs and swirling patterns cut into it. She extended her arms on either side of her and bent her head, peeping up at him through her lashes. Her lips curled in a predatory smirk.

He swallowed. Part of him wanted to whip out his phone and snap a picture; she was just so gorgeous in that moment. Her hair was swept in a luscious '40's do that both hid and defined her face. Her lips were a brilliant red and moist from licking them, and her dark, smoky purple eye shadow darkened her eyes to a deep, mystical coffee color. The light from the chandelier above them (the people who built this place really went all-out, didn't they?) made her russet hair shine like polished wood or liquid chocolate, and sent the deep sorcerer's purple sequins on her dress shoot out tiny dazzling beams of light. She was sparkling, alluring, unreachable and yet more real than anything else in the world to him.

And heaven help him, he wanted to ravish her.

Kate's smile grew at the look on Rick's face. He really did look dashing in his tux. She made a mental note to make him wear a tuxedo to the next policeman's ball. And the way he was looking at her… like he'd never seen her before but she was all he'd ever dreamed of… it made her swallow with emotion. It also made her blood become scalding hot.

"See something you like, Rick?" She asked, raising one of her legs up so that he got to see just how long and smooth they were. Her four-inch eggplant colored fuck-me heels helped, too. They had a diamond design at the front that matched the small, Old Hollywood style diamonds dangling from her ears. Her voice was dripping with unbridled lust.

"Oh, Kate, you have no idea." He whispered, striding forward and pressing up against her.

His mouth completely covered hers, his tongue plundering her like he was trying to find all of her secrets, to reach in and pull her moans out of her. He was doing a pretty damn good job of it, too.

Kate clenched her hands around his upper arms, grinding softly against him as he gathered her up into his arms. He needed her closer; he needed every inch of her pressed against him. There was nothing more important to him in that moment then having her as close as humanly possible.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't close enough. She was practically trying to crawl inside of him (or draw him into her, she wasn't sure) because it would never be close enough for her. She was burning, slowly burning, their kiss deep and intense and gradually consuming every burning atom of her being.

A little luxury known as oxygen, forgotten about until that moment, suddenly became a necessity and they broke apart, their chests heaving. The sight of Kate's barely-covered bosom heaving with exertion was nearly enough to make Rick come undone.

He turned her in his arms, about to press her into the couch, but she put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Kate's eyes were flashing fire, and not the good kind.

"I just let you pay a million dollars for this dress, and I am not going to let you ruin it." She warned.

Oh, yeah, that. While she'd been his girlfriend for a good eight months now and he had a ring hidden in his writing desk, she still had a problem with using his credit card. This wasn't the first time he'd bought her a dress, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but Kate had already acquiesced enough. She wasn't going to waste his money by getting semen on the dress or, worse, ripping it.

Rick's eyes darted from her face to the couch to her dress and then her face again. That distinctive gleam came into his eyes – the 'spinning crazy theories' gleam that both delighted and worried her.

Before Kate could protest or even realize what was happening, he'd spun her around and bent her over. She only had time to brace herself against the chair with her hands when he was carefully pushing her dress up. She looked over her shoulder and rewarded him with a look of appreciation. Rick took great care to raise the dress up so that it was bunched up around her upper abdomen, just below her breasts. He regretted not being able to touch them but right now he just needed release, to feed the fire eating him alive.

He bent over her, his mouth just behind her ear, and wrapped his hands around her waist. "Try not to scream." He whispered, issuing both a dare and a warning.

Kate heard the sound of his pants being undone and then he was pushing into her, gently and smoothly. She gasped, her walls dilating for him, shutting her eyes at the sensation. Oh, it was going to be very, very hard to keep quiet. She was suddenly grateful there was a door that separated the waiting room from the main reception area.

Rick started the rhythm, moving slowly, almost languidly. He was sucked into the feeling of being in her, of being surrounded by her, and he wanted to take his time. Kate, sweet impatient fiery Kate, was having none of it. She wanted release, damn it, and she wanted it _now_.

And everyone said _he_ was the impatient one?

Snaking his hand down, he began to stroke her stomach, slowly working his way lower. Kate hissed, her eyelids fluttering, as he began to trail his way down to her center. Never stopping, never ceasing his thrusts, Rick slipped his fingers into her folds, delighting in the wetness that awaited him there.

It took him a minute to register what _wasn't_ down there.

"Kate…" His words were choppy and interspersed with pants and groans that he had to bite back. "Why aren't you wearing any underwear?"

The look she flashed him was nothing less than devilish. "I took them off in the limo ride over here, remember?"

He did remember, and the memory of that ride made his next thrust harder. Kate bit her lip to keep from crying out with pleasure.

"They were… so wet… I didn't even bother putting them – ah – back on." She whispered huskily.

Rick's finger encircled her clit, barely brushing against it, and she bucked against him. He did it again and then inserted the tip of his finger inside her, just the tip, teasing her a few times before sinking two fingers into her. Kate's walls clenched, both around his fingers and his manhood, and he clenched his teeth as bolts of sensations shot through him.

She was having a desperately hard time not making any sound as his fingers continued to pump her, his thumb rubbing her clit. His thrusts were getting more erratic, too – the tiny pants and gasps she was making were doing him in.

Then he leaned forward and placed his mouth right at her ear, and she knew she was done for.

"You look so beautiful tonight." He whispered, planting kisses and sucking at her skin and ear as he spoke. "You were sexy and cultured and so classically glamorous."

His voice was smooth and charming but deep and dark, his ability to charm and warp words meeting his sharp desire and raw cravings to create an unbelievably sexy combination. Kate felt she just might come from his voice alone as he words wove a spell of hunger and temptation, a spider's web of words.

"You would have put Grace Kelly and Sophia Lauren to shame." He didn't stop his assault on her, not with his voice and not with his fingers. "You were so stunning and beautiful, but so wild, so untamable, at the same time.

"No one knows that, do they? All they saw was the sex kitten, the statuesque beauty. They didn't see the jungle cat or the fire dervish. They don't know what I know, Kate. I know that you're never tamed. You may look the part, and you may let people bask in your light but you are still wild – primal, almost. And only I get to see it.

"You're so unpredictable. Like when you climax; you know I love watching you come apart around me, right? Whether it's my fingers or my tongue or my dick, I love being the one who makes you fall apart. But you never fall apart the same way. Sometimes you come screaming and clutching at me, or your entire body just melts and you're completely boneless. Other times you just keep moving, like you have no choice but to keep up the rhythm and you make this humming sound in your throat that is more beautiful than any symphony."

She was close, she was so close, and she'd have been lying if she said it wasn't because of his words, the story he was whispering in her ear. He may have written novels for her but this was a story that no one else would hear. This was a story for her alone.

"You know what I like best, though?" Rick was unbelievably close too, but he tried to hold out. He wanted to finish this, to bring her to the brink. Only then would he let himself fall. "I like it when you're so overwhelmed that you can't even make a sound. All that comes out are these little gasps and maybe that tiny noise in your throat like you do when we kiss and you want more. It was the noise you made during our undercover kiss, remember? It's the noise only I can bring out of you.

"I love it when you fall apart that way, when it's just too much for you and you can only try and breathe through it. I always hold you when you come like that, and let me tell you the expression on your face then is more beautiful than any work of art. No one could paint or sculpt that face. It's beyond words, beyond the ability of man, to recreate. And only I get to see it.

"Do you have any idea how addicting that is? How intoxicating? Do you have any idea what you do to me, Kate?"

"Yes." That one word was all she could pant out, her voice hoarse and throaty, as if she hadn't used it in hours. "Yes, because it's what you do to me."

Rick was moving fast, now, both his body and with his fingers. He was panting right next to her ear, and she could feel his hot breath curl over her neck.

"Come with me, Kate." He whispered. "Fall with me."

And she did. She went over the edge, falling with him, descending into a sea of ancient and primal feeling – a feeling so old that man has forgotten how to describe it; a feeling so great that it existed before words, and no words can properly label it.

She came exactly how he described.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They collapsed onto the sofa, breathing heavily. Castle was pretty sure he'd fried a couple circuits or maybe even blacked out, it was just so powerful. 'Orgasm' didn't even begin to describe it.

Beckett was the first one up, of course. It wasn't that she recovered faster than he did, but whether she was still in a post-sex haze or not, she needed to get them cleaned up. A quick trip to the bathroom took care of any fluids, and gave her the chance to fix her hair and dress. Not a single sequin was out of place.

God, she loved that man.

She reached to reapply her lipstick, but realized she'd left her clutch at the table. Damn. Oh, well; she'd just fix it at the table. No one would notice except for Natalie (who's fox eyes missed nothing), but then Natalie already knew what they'd done judging by the look she'd sent Beckett as Castle hauled her out the door.

When she reemerged from the bathroom, Castle was looking presentable once more, his dapper charm as firmly in place as his tie and cufflinks. Beckett curled her arms around his, pressing herself into his side as she had when they were outside on the red carpet. Only this time it was from love and affection, not from nervousness and discomfort.

Castle reached to open the door, but someone beat him to it.

A pale, large-eyed blonde, her laugh revealing her teeth (with a gap in the front two) was hanging on the arm of a tall, vaguely European-looking man with a five o'clock shadow and hooded eyes. They stopped short upon catching sight of Castle and Beckett.

"Oh, sorry!" The woman giggled.

"Oh, no, it's all yours." Beckett replied, her eyes dancing.

Castle and the man watched as the two women said everything without saying a word. Just one of woman's many talents: effortless (and silent) communication between fellow women.

Grabbing Castle's hand, Beckett winked at the woman as she hauled him out of the room; the blonde winked back before turning her full attention to the slightly-confused looking man by her side.

Castle was still trying to wrap his head around that little encounter when a large man at the bar (the only customer in the otherwise empty room) raised his shot glass at them. "Don't worry; they always sneak off at some point." He said. His curly hair, which had been slicked back as much as possible and pulled into a ponytail, had started to escape and wisps of it hung around his serious face. "You should've seen them at the Emmys."

Beckett bit back a laugh while Castle grinned. "Enjoy your scotch." He said.

They re-entered the theater just as the next commercial break started. They hurried to their seats and sat down, Beckett wasting no time in pulling out her lipstick and reapplying.

Natalie elbowed her. "What did you two do out there?" She asked.

Beckett stared at her. "What do you think?" She asked, stunned into telling the truth.

The actress rolled her eyes. "Well, Liz, I'd say that you and Burt were reenacting a love scene but other than the lipstick you look perfect."

Beckett smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "You know, there are ways to do it that help avoid certain… wardrobe malfunctions."

Natalie's eyes widened, before she grinned. "Kate Beckett, you are one naughty girl." She said, shaking her head.

Beckett looked over at Castle, who had a rather too-innocent look on his face. Anyone looking at him would think he was listening to the hunky bearded Australian presenting the award, but Beckett knew better. He was listening with all his might to her conversation.

"It helps when you have a naughty boy." She whispered to Natalie.

The actress raised her champagne glass. "Here, here!"

Beckett raised her glass and clinked it with hers, sipping as Natalie took a long swig of her drink.

Maybe Natalie wasn't that bad… and, Beckett thought as Castle's hand found hers under the table, she could definitely get used to these award shows.

Especially if they all had such lovely bathrooms.

**Have you all ever seen Stana Katic and Nathan Fillion work the red carpet? They are professionals, people. It's enough to make a girl swoon. (In fact, I know a girl who does – yes, Michelle, my Down-Under Stana addict, I'm looking at you!)**

**Ooh and quick note! Sterling Hudson, who plays Rook, is based off of two people. His last name is from Rock Hudson, the very masculine and very gay star of the '60s sex comedies, and his first name is my brother's name. My brother is not gay, but when I asked him what he thought was a masculine name he said his own name was pretty darn masculine. He would kill me if he found out, so let's keep this character our little secret, okay? The name "Chris Lane" is a combination of Chris Colfer from the show Glee and Nathan Lane, a brilliant (and flamingly gay) actor. One of his most well-known roles was as the voice of Timon, the fast-talking meerkat in Disney's The Lion King.**

***Creepy Jigsaw voice* I want to play a game… *Normal voice* Guess that star! I described several film and television stars in this story. Let's see if you can guess them all! NO HINTS! There's also a quote from a certain beloved Christmas story, so double points if you can nail that one! It's a little difficult so you get one hint: Boris Karloff. And if you know the Hollywood couple that Natalie was referring to… well, I bow at your feet. Ready… go!**

**Here is Natalie's gown: google "Mac Duggal Couture Style 78511D". I stole this gown from ekc293's story "Yours, Mine, and No One Else's" – just change the colors to red and orange.**

**Here is Kate's gown: google "Jovani 4247", lessen the number of sequins and change the color to a deep purple.**


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